


Sweeter than Sugar

by SilverDragon42



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Babies, F/M, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDragon42/pseuds/SilverDragon42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based very, very loosely on this AU prompt: "you crouched down to coo at my baby but i forgot to tell you their favorite thing to do is to play with people’s hair and now they won’t let go of you"</p><p>Bucky liked Steve more than anything on his very short “things that I don’t want to punch” list, which was so far limited to dogs, babies, and coffee. He wanted to punch both his best friends, Nat and Clint, almost daily and Sam from the VA sometimes hit the metaphorical nail a little too directly and left Bucky shaking with emotions and energy he didn’t know what to do with. But Steve, Steve was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweeter than Sugar

Bucky didn’t like people. In fact more often than not he hated people. They were loud, and smelly, and touchy, and had the tendency to give him pitying looks when they saw his empty left sleeve which meant that he had the tendency to make unnecessarily, at least according to his therapist, rude remarks or simply walk away from conversations. That certainly hadn’t earned him any friends, which was his current goal in life according to his therapist.

_“You need to put an effort toward making friends James. You can’t isolate yourself like this. It isn’t healthy.”_

_“I have friends.”_

_“James…”_

Ugh.

He particularly didn’t like his therapist. She constantly made quiet “thoughtful” noises and played “soothing” music both of which made Bucky want to tear someone’s ears off. He wasn’t sure whether he’d rather take off his own or hers but whatever stopped that damned noise was fine with him. And she called him _James_.

That was the worst.

He’d “expressed his preference” for his nickname, very early on in a calm, reasonable manner just like the guy at the VA told them to do, and she had decided that the name “Bucky” had negative connotations and it would be  “detrimental to his recovery” for to use it and he should discourage anyone else from using it. Never mind the fact that the last person to call him James had been his mother and she had died during his second tour just before he lost the goddamn arm and the sound of that name still sent spikes of pain through him.

The guy at the VA had gone still in a very familiar way when Bucky quietly admitted that in the next session he felt like talking. It’d put a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach, one that he hadn’t felt for anyone but Clint or Nat in a very long time and only for them when they were all drunk out of their minds on Nat’s terrifying Russian vodka, when his therapist had told him, quite sternly, that he should come to her with all complaints and shouldn’t be seeking help from unqualified sources and if he needed extra therapy the hospital would be happy to put him in touch with another recommended specialist.

It had taken all of Bucky’s considerable self-control to keep from bursting into cruel laughter at that one. The hospital had recommended _her_. And if it wasn’t for the facts that he was required to attend a set number of sessions with a hospital affiliated therapist and that it was very unlikely that anyone connected to the hospital would be different, Bucky would have said “fuck you” and walked out weeks ago.

Yeah, Bucky didn’t like people, except Nat, Clint, and VA guy….possibly Sam, and people, except Nat, Clint, and probably Sam, didn’t tend to like Bucky. Oh, and _Steve_. Granted Bucky didn’t have any proof that Steve actually like him, or even knew he existed save for the vague smiles that passed between strangers at a coffee shop, but Bucky liked Steve.

Bucky liked Steve more than anything on his very short “things that I don’t want to punch” list, which was so far limited to dogs, babies, and coffee. He wanted to punch both Nat and Clint daily and…. definitely Sam sometimes hit the metaphorical nail a little too directly and left Bucky shaking with emotions and energy he didn’t know what to do with. But Steve, Steve was perfect.

Steve was short, and skinny, and blonde with ridiculous hipster glasses, an adorable blue beanie, and the dark line of a tattoo creeping up his neck. He and Bucky were two of the four or five regulars who would come in, get their coffee and then sit in the deceptively uncomfortable looking chairs and couches around this little out of the way café. Lacking anything better to do while Nat was at work and Clint was doing whatever the hell Clint did, Bucky could spend hours tucked into a corner with his back to the wall, clear sight lines, and a delicious cup of coffee on the table beside him. He didn’t even take his phone out of his pocket more often than not, just let his eyes wander over the customers that fluttered in and out and the people passing by outside the wide glass windows.

Steve had caught his eye because he was adorable and Bucky had a thing for small and cute, but his gaze wandered away and didn’t return until the heavily pierced barista called the name Steve three times before there was a clattered two tables down from him and Steve stumbled up to the counter, a blush spreading down his neck. When he glanced around to see who had witnessed his humiliation and caught Bucky’s eye, Steve had flushed even darker and hurried back to his seat and the open sketchbook on the table in front of him.

Bucky could admit to himself that his fascination with Steve after that was slightly creepy. He’d still kept a general watch on the area around him but more often than not he’d catch himself tracing the shape of Steve’s impressive jaw with his eyes or watching the pale sunlight dance through the window and off the strands of hair that escaped the beanie. The worst was when Steve would get frustrated with whatever he was drawing and that tiny crease of concentration would appear between his eyes. Bucky could honestly feel his fingers twitch with the desire to smooth it out.

Steve always came in at the same time, two in the afternoon, and left no earlier than two hours later. Once he’d completely lost track of time and he and Bucky had walked out into the darkened city in silence when the dark haired kid with a broom had politely kicked them out. The silence hadn’t been uncomfortable and Steve had actually glanced at him and given him a small polite smile before they parted ways on the sidewalk in front of the shop. The next day Steve had been late and the afternoon rush, which Steve usually missed by minutes, was starting to pick up when Bucky slipped quietly into line and surprised the barista by ordering something other than his usual. He’d then spent the next ten minutes glaring at anyone who came near Steve’s table and the lone cup until the blonde man arrived, dripping from the rain, took in the hideously long line and slunk over to his usual seat.

He’d jerked in surprise at the sight of the cup with his name on it and stared at it for a moment as he dropped his bag in one chair and slid into the other. Finally he picked up the cup and looked directly at Bucky. Every single muscle in Bucky’s body had tensed up, frozen like a deer in headlights under the gaze of those clear blue eyes. When Steve had tilted his head inquisitively Bucky forced his neck to bend in a nod and nearly choked at the brilliant smile and slight flush that lit up Steve’s face. Even better had been the next morning when Bucky arrived and the girl behind the counter handed him his drink with a smirk, a “no charge”, and a little drawing done on a napkin of a grinning coffee cup and the words ‘Thank You’.

Their interaction hadn’t really progressed since that day although Bucky got a bright smile, which he managed to return, every day when Steve walked through the door and at the very least a glance when he left for the day. Everyone except Bucky’s therapist knew about Steve, he did not want to hear her opinion on Steve because it probably wouldn’t be good, like her opinion on most things in his life, and that would definitely lead to punching or at least throwing things. Nat had done her creepy knowing smile and Clint had very seriously reminded him to be safe and use protection. He’d been chased around the apartment and eventually socked in the gut once Bucky had managed to corner him.

VA Sam, who Bucky had expected to be the voice of reason and try to explain to him that what he was doing was not considered normal social interaction, had instead clapped him on the back and congratulated him. They’d all encouraged him to actually go and talk to Steve, to which Bucky had responded with a shrug and a noncommittal noise, but now here he was trying to force his hand not to shake around his coffee cup as he waited for Steve to arrive.

Every time the little bell over the door jingled Bucky forced himself not to jump and cursed himself when his eyes flickered to the doorway like a startled rabbit. Steve would get here when he got here, and he’d get in line, and get his coffee, and sit down at his little table with his sketchpad and his pencils, and Bucky would…

Bucky would…

_Oh, that’s not fucking fair!_

The sound of the door had finally heralded the entrance of Steve, but he was pushing a stroller and in the stroller was the cutest baby Bucky had ever seen. His fingers clenched around the flimsy cup in his grasp as Steve parked the stroller by his table and lifted the little girl, dark curly hair and deep brown eyes, a little less than two years old, onto his hip before stepping up to the counter. Once he’d gotten his drink Steve settled her back into the stroller and handed her a little bag of cheerios before sinking into his own chair.

He had his sketchbook, like usual, but instead of working in silence Steve kept up a constant stream of nonsense as he drew and the little girl munched away on her snack. Bucky got so caught up in the sight that when he caught a glimpse of his watch he realized that if Steve kept to his usual schedule he’d be leaving soon and Bucky was probably never going to have as good of an excuse as this one. He stood, took the last swig of his lukewarm coffee, grimaced, and tossed the cup in the trash. Taking a deep breath he made his way over.

Steve looked up, away from his sketchbook and the gurgling toddler, when Bucky approached, and his face didn’t lose its smile when he took in the sight of the man standing above him. There was a beat of silence in which Steve’s eyebrows furrowed a little bit, before Bucky realized he should speak.

“Hi.” Oh god was that his voice. He cleared his throat a tried again. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” Steve grinned up at him, the edges of his blue eyes crinkling, and stuck out his hand.

“Steve.” He responded and Bucky forced himself not to focus on the feeling of Steve’s cool hand in his and barely stopped himself from answering with ‘I know’.

“She’s adorable.” Bucky said, tilting his head at the little girl and tucking his hand back into his pocket when the handshake had gone on a little too long.

“Yeah, she is.” Steve responded, smiling down at the toddler and wrinkling his nose to make her laugh. “My favorite little niece.”

“You mind if I say hi?” Steve shook his head, still smiling, and Bucky squatted down in front of the stroller.

“Her name’s Maya.”

“Hey Maya.” Bucky cooed leaning down even farther. His hair tickled his cheeks as it swept past. His hair tie had broken this morning and he’d been too lazy to grab another one. Judging by the tiny, but surprisingly strong, grip that tangled in the ends of his hair that had been a mistake.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I forgot how much she likes to play with hair.” He set his sketchbook to one side and slid off the chair to kneel next to Bucky and the stroller. Bucky teetered a little, unsteady on his toes, as Maya yanked a little and giggled happily.

“Maya, princess.” Steve said cajolingly, catching her attention although it seemed to only tighten her grip on Bucky’s locks. “Come on, sweetheart let go of the nice man’s hair.” She stuck her other fist in her mouth and stared up at them with huge brown eyes, all the while tugging absentmindedly on Bucky’s hair. Steve reached out obviously aiming to pry her little fingers off one by one, but she jerked her arm up above her head tugging Bucky forward so he lost his balance completely. Catching himself against the table Bucky laughed and reached down to tickle her lightly. She giggled and waved both hands around but did not give up her prize.

“Maybe just leave her alone for a minute.” Bucky suggested, settling down on his knees beside the stroller. “She’ll get bored eventually.” Steve looked dubious but sat down on the other side and rubbed one hand over his face.

“I’m really sorry about this.” He said again. “Her parents will be here in a few minutes and she loves her mum’s hair more than anybody else’s so I know she’ll let go then.” Bucky couldn’t help the smile spreading over his face as he leaned over to dangle the rest of his hair over Maya. Her eyes went wide and she swiped at him with her other hand.

“It’s alright.” He reassured Steve. “So she does this a lot?” Steve snorted a laugh and launched into a story of every time Maya had decided she liked someone’s hair and decided to not let go. Despite the accusatory tone the story was riddled with affectionate nicknames for the child between them and Steve’s eyes shone with adoration the entire time he spoke. That story lead into another, and another, and somehow Steve even managed to get Bucky talking about all of the ridiculous and mostly idiotic pranks he and Clint had pulled on each other over the years. Steve particularly liked the ones when they accidentally pranked Natasha and she got them back better than anything either of them could ever think of.

Neither of them realized someone had walked up behind them until someone cleared their throat. They both jumped slightly and Bucky winced as Maya reaffirmed her grip on his hair. Once she got a look at the woman standing over them, however, she squealed and released him completely in favor of holding her arms out to the elegant woman who must be her mother. Steve scrambled to his feet and held his hand out for Bucky who, unusually, didn’t even think before taking it and levering himself to his feet.

Maya was now comfortable cradled on the shoulder of the lovely woman, both hands tangled in her beautifully curled brown hair, and rambling non-stop.  A dark skinned man with closely shorn hair stepped up behind them and pressed a kiss to the little girl’s cheek.

“Hey Peg. Hey Gabe.” Steve greeted. “This is Bucky.” Bucky waved and appreciated that neither of their gazes lingered on his empty left sleeve.

“Hello. I’m guessing you’re the one my daughter made her latest plaything? I’m sorry about that. I’m Peggy.” He shook her hand and laughed at the description.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He replied, shaking Gabe’s hand as well when he held it out. “Although she seems to have completely moved on. Uncaring of my broken heart.” He pressed his hand against his chest theatrically making everyone laugh. Steve maneuvered the stroller out from beside the table, and Gabe took control of it.

“Sorry, we’ve got to run.” Peggy said apologetically. “Thanks for watching her Steve. See you tomorrow?” Bucky felt like he was missing something as Steve blushed heavily and both Gabe and Peggy laughed as he shooed them out. Steve’s face and neck were still a brilliant red when he turned back to Bucky.

“So you uh, you maybe want uh….”

“Yeah?” Bucky prompted, hoping this was going where he thought it was going.

“Wanna get a cup of coffee…with me….you know at…at the same table?” Steve buried his face in both hands and Bucky laughed feeling light enough to gently swing his arms around Steve’s shoulders.

“I’d love to.”

* * *

The first time Bucky saw Steve Rogers’ true colors was a few weeks later. They were walking down the sidewalk, Bucky’s arm slung over Steve’s shoulder, as it often was, and Bucky was contemplating kissing Steve for the first time at the end of the date, as he often was, and Steve’s warmth at his side was suddenly gone.

The smaller man stalked across the street to where a drunken man was harassing an already harried-looking woman outside of a bar. Bucky froze for a moment, watching as Steve stepped between the pair forcing the man to take step back and then hurried across the street himself as the man’s face twisted in rage at whatever Steve was saying. He caught the cocked fist headed for Steve’s face and unfortunately got a head to the nose for his trouble.

Steve made an animalistic noise and leapt at the guy’s face punching and kicking even as he took a punch to his own jaw. The end result was the guy lying almost unconscious on the ground beside them and Bucky waving away the girl’s terrified but grateful thank you as he pinched the bridge of his bleeding nose. She hurried off and Bucky realized that Steve was standing stock still and not looking at him. He took his hand off his nose and gently pressed against Steve’s shoulder to turn him around. Steve kept his gaze on the ground, but Bucky could see the beginnings of a bruise around his left eye and the blood running over his chin.

“Damn Stevie, that’s gonna be a gorgeous shiner.” Steve jerked his head up and huffed a laugh.

“Speak for yourself.” He muttered and Bucky put on a faux shocked look, pressing his hand over his heart.

“How dare you! I am absolutely gorgeous.” He didn’t get the sarcastic response he was expecting. Instead Steve reached up and tucked a strand of hair, which had fallen out of his bun, behind his ear.

“Yeah.” He whispered, before clearing his throat and taking his hand back.

“So you’re, you’re not mad?” Steve asked hesitantly after a moment. Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would I be mad?”

“Most people blame me for getting them hurt, or think I’m spoiling for a fight.” Steve crossed his arms and frowned. “Which I’m not. I just don’t like bullies.” Bucky finally understood something Peggy had said to him a couple days ago, and he sighed.

“Does this happen a lot?”

“You’ve been talking to Peggy haven’t you? Whatever she said it’s not true.” He was pouting now. “I don’t get in fights that much.” Bucky felt a smile spread over his face despite the spike of pain in his nose.

“Come here you punk.” He said using to fingers to grasp Steve’s chin and pull him forward into a gentle copper-tinted kiss. Steve pulled back a little to breathe a single word across Bucky’s lips, making him smile into the kiss when Steve dove back in.

“Jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't really know where this came from...got no idea about the title. But whatever, it's cute (at least I hope it is) and now the idea will leave me alone to sleep.
> 
> Written in about 3 hours and completely unbetaed so please be kind, but if you see any huge glaring errors let me know!


End file.
